


Glitter

by Irelando



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Shenanigans, yes hello did you want almost 4k of ridiculous hoth snowball fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10445115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irelando/pseuds/Irelando
Summary: Glitter (v.)1. to reflect light with a brilliant, sparkling luster; sparkle with reflected light.(aka: GIANT HOTH SNOWBALL FIGHT)





	

**Author's Note:**

> YES HELLO I'M ALIVE
> 
> I was traveling for a week and then... momentum is hard, you guys. But I return! and I bring with me ridiculous Rebellion shenanigans
> 
> this could be Kindling-verse, but there aren't really any references to previous fics or anything, so it's not going in the main series. which also means you definitely don't have to read the others to read this. hope you enjoy!

Whether by chance or by design, the Rebellion arrives on Hoth in the midst of the planet’s long, brutal winter. It’s a mixed blessing, at best – the almost constant blizzards provide cover for the Rebellion’s minimal broadcasts, but those same storms keep all nonessential flights grounded, and even those who are used to the cold temperature (which Bodhi is decidedly not) spend most of their time shivering. After two standard months of nonstop snow, the buzz of cabin fever permeates the base.

So, when the snow finally abates, and the weak sun of the Hoth system peeks out from behind the clouds, the Rebellion practically explodes out of the base. Command doesn’t even try to stop it; all nonessential tasks are suspended by unanimous order from the top. As Bodhi bundles himself up to go out, he’s pretty sure he catches a glimpse of Mon Mothma on her way out as well, her usually willowy form obscured by several layers of puffy jackets.

Bodhi layers the parka Cassian gave him over several thermal shirts, thick gloves, and a warm scarf wrapped tightly around his neck beneath his hood, and figures he’s prepared for anything as he follows Jyn and Cassian out of the base.

He’s not prepared for it to be pretty.

The surface is all smooth, rolling hills, the snow blown into subtle whorls by the wind. The ground glitters in the sunlight. Bodhi half expects to sink in up to his waist at the first step outside – he overheard a figure somewhere in the range of a hundred meters of snowfall since they arrived on the planet – but it’s only a few feet deep in most places. Whatever’s underneath is either frozen solid or packed too tight for him to sink into. He wonders what it looks like, down beneath the snow.

He stops to watch his breath puff in the air before him. He’d seen it once or twice on Jedha, on nights when the moon got particularly cold, but it catches the light in a way he finds mesmerizing.

Cassian crunches through the snow to stand beside him, looking out at the Rebels currently flinging themselves into the snow a few hundred feet away with an expression Bodhi tentatively pegs as nostalgia. The Major doesn’t look any bulkier than usual, his hood down around his neck.

After a moment, he notices Bodhi looking. “Pretty different from Jedha, huh?”

Bodhi nods, tucking his face a little further into his scarf. He still misses Jedha, so much sometimes it feels like there’s a hole the size of the Death Star inside him, but… he’s actually kind of grateful that Hoth is nothing like the desert. Someplace like Tatooine, he thinks, would have haunted him with its similarity. He’s never going to look out at this frozen world and mistake it for Jedha.

Wind gusts across the snow, stirring up eddies in the loose powder. Bodhi shivers and hunches his shoulders. “Aren’t you cold?”

Cassian shrugs, squinting at the light glinting off the snow in the air. “I was born on a planet like this,” he says eventually. “I don’t remember much of it, but I think maybe my body does.”

Bodhi turns that bit of information over in his head. Cassian opens up more every day, but he’s still careful with the pieces of his past, playing them close to the chest. Every tidbit he lets slip feels like Bodhi inching closer into his circle of trust, and Bodhi’s not one to take that lightly.

Jyn comes crashing back through the snow, bulling through the deep parts with sheer stubbornness. “I found tracks.”

“What kind of tracks?” Cassian asks, his shoulders tensing slightly.

“Don’t worry,” she says, “Looks like some kind of animal. Didn’t come too close to base, so it probably doesn’t care for people.”

“Maybe,” Cassian says, looking unconvinced.

“I found something else, too,” Jyn says. “Come see.”

They traipse off through the snow, back along Jyn’s path. Bodhi finds the endless white-on-white seriously disorienting; he’s glad that Jyn seems to know where she’s going, because he’s not sure he’d be able to navigate at all without her.

He doesn’t even realize they’re going uphill until they crest a small rise. Jyn stops and gestures with a flourish. “Ta-da.”

Bodhi tries not to gape, but he can’t help himself. A huge, frozen lake spreads out before them. Whether it’s a fluke of the wind or some trick of the water currents under the ice, the snow is stuck in crazy, beautiful whorls across the otherwise dark surface. It looks like some giant creature swirled a paintbrush across the ice.

Cassian whistles.

“I know, right?” Jyn agrees.

Bodhi feels like he should add something, but the only thing he can come up with is, “Wow.” His friends just nod agreement.

They stand in silence for another moment. Then, suddenly, Cassian’s head snaps up.  “What is that?”

“What?” Bodhi says, dragging himself back to the present. The patterns are strangely mesmerizing. Jyn and Cassian have both turned, staring back over the crest of the hill they’d just come over. Jyn’s hand is tucked inside her coat like she’s thinking of drawing her blaster.

After a moment, Bodhi hears it. Somewhere in the distance, people are shouting, their voices strangely distorted by the wind.

“Come on,” Cassian says. The tension in his voice sends a small tendril of fear up Bodhi’s spine. They start back up the hill.

They’ve barely taken a step when a vaguely familiar form comes scrambling and sliding over the hill. The telltale orange of a Rebel pilot flightsuit flashes from the figure’s collar, but it’s not until he skids to a stop in front of them that Bodhi recognizes Wedge Antilles. It doesn’t help that he’s absolutely _covered_ in snow.

Cassian’s brow furrows in confusion. “Wedge? What’s going on? We heard shouting.”

Wedge holds up a hand, then braces himself on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Jyn and Cassian trade a concerned look. “Something we should be worried about?” Cassian asks uncertainly.

Wedge straightens immediately, shaking his head. “No,” he pants, “Not at all.” He takes another second, raking his snow-damp hair out of his face.

“Then what is it?” Jyn prompts.

Wedge grins. “Snowball fight.”

Cassian groans. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Wedge says cheerfully.

“What started it?” Jyn asks, and shrugs at Cassian’s exasperated look. “It’s a valid question.”

“Well,” Wedge says, rubbing his hands together. Bodhi’s not sure if he’s cold or if he’s just unable to contain his glee. “Gold Squadron was talking shit, something about X-wings being made out of flimsi and prayers. And I said it didn’t matter; we’re ten times as maneuverable as their clunky little boats, and I’d be happy to show them how to dodge if they were ready for the big leagues.”

Cassian puts his head in his hand.

“Can’t let them get away with that kind of talk, now can I?” Wedge says. “Anyway, I won’t bore you with the back and forth, but we decided the only way to settle this was to chuck snow at each other.” He pauses. “Well. I say decided, but honestly Luke Force-lifted an entire snowbank on top of Gold and that was kind of that.”

Cassian sighs. “Of course he did.”

On the other side of Cassian, Bodhi notices Jyn slowly bend down, gathering a pile of snow between her gloved hands. She sees him looking and waggles her eyebrows meaningfully. When he just blinks, she raises a finger to her lips, eyes flickering to Cassian and back.

 _Oh no,_ Bodhi thinks, resigned.

“It’s all in good fun,” Wedge is saying, snow flaking off of him as he gestures energetically. “I’m just saying, you’re probably gonna want to pick a side or clear the area.”

Jyn straightens, a pile of snow held carefully in one hand.

Cassian sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t suppose you know if—“

He never finishes the question. Jyn picks that moment to grab the back of his coat and dump her handful of snow directly down his collar.

Cassian jumps about three feet in the air and lets out a sound Bodhi can only describe as a _yowl_. “Jyn!”

“You’ll never take me alive, Red Squadron scum,” she declares.

“Come here, you—“ Cassian grabs for her, but she dances out of reach.

“Gold Squadron rules!” she shouts, punching a fist in the air, and takes off through the snow.

Cassian stares after her. Bodhi manages, barely, to keep a straight face.

Wedge, on the other hand, isn’t even trying. “Guess that makes you Red Squadron.”

\--

As they walk back over the rise, Wedge gives them a rundown on the rules, such as they are. The ‘battlefield’ is a large stretch of mostly-even terrain with a truly enormous boulder sitting almost exactly in the middle. The winner, Wedge explains, is whichever team can take the top of the rock and hold it for a clean five minutes.

The trick, he continues, is that for each hit they take, a combatant must run all the way back to their team’s “safe zone” to reset before continuing to fight.

By this time, they’ve reached the rest of Red Squadron, huddled behind a hastily-constructed wall of snow a few feet high and maybe ten feet long. Bodhi picks out Luke, who’s listening with solemn intent as one of the other pilots instructs him in proper snowball construction. And, to his astonishment, he also spots Han Solo, sitting against one end of the wall. Bodhi leaves Cassian talking strategy with Wedge and flounders through the snow to Han.

“Where’s Chewie?” he asks. He’s surprised enough that Han is willing to participate in this kind of thing, but it’s even weirder that he’d do it without his best backup.

“Inside,” Han says.

“That’s a shame,” Bodhi says absently. He’d bet Chewie has killer aim.

Han raises his head at that. “Have you ever smelled a wet Wookiee?” he asks, dead serious.

Bodhi blinks. “Uh. No?”

Han unfolds his arms long enough to point a finger at Bodhi for emphasis. “Then it’s your lucky day.”

Bodhi’s pretty sure he’s missing something. “Why?”

The smuggler makes a face. “I’ve stepped in rancid bantha shit before, and trust me, wet Wookiee is worse.”

Bodhi blanches. “Oh.”

Wedge picks that moment to raise his head and beckon them all in closer. “Okay,” he says, once they’re all huddled together. “Cease fire is up in another minute or two. Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

\--

The end of the cease fire is kind of anticlimactic. It comes and goes with little fanfare, and no movement from Gold Squadron, or at least none that the newbie pilot Wedge sent out as a scout could see. The opposite side of the field remains still and quiet. Wedge watches suspiciously for a few extra minutes, the whole of Red Squadron waiting with their snowballs at the ready just in case.

Nothing happens.

“I feel like this is a trap,” Cassian says.

“Definitely,” Wedge agrees. He nods to Luke, who nods and takes off across the field. Watching Luke run across the top of the snow like it’s solid ground, it strikes Bodhi as a little unfair that they have a Jedi on their side.

Luke crosses the field at a dead sprint and leaps up onto the boulder in one smooth move—

and the instant his feet touch the rock no fewer than four snowballs smack into his chest and arms, and he topples off into the deep snow bank around the boulder’s base.

“Those didn’t come from behind the wall,” Cassian observes.

“At least one off the north side,” Wedge adds.

“I saw one off the south side, too,” Bodhi puts in, pleased to be helping. Then he frowns, looking at the hole where Luke disappeared into the snow. “Is… he okay?”

Almost as if in response, Luke resurfaces, spluttering. Another snowball smacks into the rock next to his head, and he waves a hand in acquiescence and runs back to the base. His hair is soaked with snow when he arrives, his face splotchy and red from the cold, but he’s grinning.

“You still okay to play bait?” Wedge asks.

Luke nods, a competitive spark in his eye. “They caught me by surprise. It won’t happen again.”

Wedge grins and claps him on the shoulder. “Good man.”

The Jedi heads out again a moment later. This time, the barrage starts as soon as he’s within ten feet of the rock—and this time, they miss.

Bodhi watches out of the corner of his eye as he and Cassian circle north of the field. Luke goes down one more time, but as far as Bodhi or Cassian can tell he’s doing an excellent job of keeping Gold Squadron’s attention off of them, and off of Han and Wedge (who are mirroring them to the south).

He believes that right up until they reach the spot the snowballs were coming from, and discover a message scrawled into a clean patch of snow.

_Nice try._

Cassian stares at the message for a long moment, lips pursed. Something rustles, a dark shape rising in the corner of Bodhi’s eye, and he instinctively drops into the snow.

He hears a couple of solid _thuds_ , then a heaver _whumpf_. “You’re out, Andor,” a cheerful, vaguely familiar male voice says.  

Bodhi raises his head cautiously.

Sure enough, Cassian’s down, his front pockmarked with snowbursts and a long-suffering look on his face. Beyond him is Jyn, tossing a snowball idly in one hand, and a man Bodhi recognizes as Evaan Verlaine, the only veteran pilot left in Gold Squadron.

Jyn raises an eyebrow at him. “I can hit you with this,” she says, “Or we can pretend I did.”

“I like option two,” Bodhi admits. He’s got enough snow down his front as it is.

“I thought you might.”

When he and Cassian trudge back into base, they’re greeted by a similarly damp Han and Wedge.

“What kind of Princess can throw a snowball that well?” Han grouses, brushing snow futilely off his parka. Luke hides a grin behind his hand. Han glares at him, then at Wedge and Cassian. “Any more bright ideas, you two?”

Wedge nods. “A few.”

\--

They don’t work.

An hour later, everyone in Red Squadron is coated head-to-toe in snow, and they’re no closer to taking the rock. Bodhi huddles further into his jacket, shivering at the cold water seeping in through his sleeves, as the team takes a moment to regroup.

“This isn’t working,” Han says.

Cassian visibly bites back something acerbic. Instead, all he says is, “They have to go for the rock eventually.”

“Why?” Wedge counters. “They’re doing just fine letting us exhaust ourselves.”

“Maybe we should stop trying to be tricky,” Luke suggests. “We have more people, right? Let’s try a straight rush.”

Everyone looks at Wedge, who shrugs. “Why not?”

To everyone’s mild shock, their wild rush works. They tear across the field; Bodhi sticks close to Luke, but it doesn’t end up mattering; Gold Squadron’s gotten complacent, and by the time the snowballs start flying Red is already at the rock.

Wedge, Luke, and a couple of newbies scale the boulder while the rest cluster around the bottom and provide suppressing fire. Bodhi even gets a few shots in, and is gratified to see a pilot go down when his hastily-thrown snowball smacks into his chest.

Jyn pops up right next to her fallen teammate; Bodhi flinches, but her eyes are locked on Cassian, and his on her. An intense flurry ensues, both scooping and firing off shots as fast as they can and neither managing to land a hit.

Bodhi looks down at the snowball in his hand.

Jyn’s so intent on Cassian, she doesn’t even glance at Bodhi as he walks up next to her. That is, until he tosses his snowball gently into her back. She freezes.

“You’re out,” Bodhi says cheerfully.

Jyn eyes him. “Oh, you are so dead.”

Bodhi considers, and grins. “Worth it.”

Jyn laughs. She pauses long enough to point at Cassian and promise, “This isn’t over,” then turns and starts pushing through the snow back towards Gold’s base.

Bodhi goes back to Cassian, who eyes him with an unreadable expression. “I had her,” he says.

“I know,” Bodhi says, and catches the shadow of a grin as Cassian turns to look for a new target.

There’s nothing left of Gold Squadron but a couple of stragglers on their way back to base. Wedge claps Luke on the shoulder, nearly knocking the Jedi off his perch. “Nice one, Skywalker. Keep it simple, eh?”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Han says incredulously.

“Two minutes down,” Wedge announces, checking his chrono. “Three to go.”

With their defensive line broken, Gold Squadron can’t seem to gain it back. They make a couple of abortive attempts, but are easily driven off by the now-entrenched Red Squadron.

A minute ticks by.

Then another, and it’s starting to look like Red might actually take the day.

And then Leia Organa approaches, her hands held up before her in the universal sign of peace. Jyn trails behind her, which Bodhi thinks is probably a good move; the pilots hesitate to throw snowballs at the Princess when she’s so obviously ‘unarmed’, but Jyn has no such reputation to protect her.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Leia announces as she gets close.

“To what?” Luke asks.

“Surrender, of course,” Leia says.

Han snorts. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Princess, you’re not exactly in a position to be making threats.”

Slowly, Leia smirks. “Aren’t I?”

Almost before she finishes the word, an absolutely _enormous_ snowball (more of a snow boulder, really) goes sailing over Bodhi’s head. By the startled yelps and _thuds_ from atop the rock, it sounds like all four of the men up there go down.

White powder flares into a cloud around Bodhi, following a dark shape that flits by. Bodhi squints, and makes out a familiar flash of red fabric. His heart sinks.

It takes less than a minute for Chirrut and Baze to _decimate_ Red Squadron. Chirrut’s shots are light, but uncannily accurate as always; Bodhi gets one in the side of the face that puffs into powder on impact, leaving him blinking as the glittering snow settles in his beard. The grunts from other, less-fortunate Red Squadron members suggest that Baze isn’t being quite so careful.

When the snow settles, every single member of Bodhi’s team is flat on their back or sitting dazed in the snow. Wedge surfaces from the snow bank, spitting snow and wiping at his face, just in time for Leia and Jyn to climb past him onto the rock.

“I believe that’s game,” Jyn says casually, once she reaches the top.

“We’ll see about that,” Luke says, and takes off for Red Squadron’s base.

Leia watches him go with a raised eyebrow. “Points for commitment, I suppose,” she says, and looks at the rest of the team. “Anyone else?”

A couple of the more stubborn pilots (Wedge included) haul themselves up and go after him, but most don’t bother. Bodhi spots Cassian, once again on his back, the sparkling snow in his hair and beard an odd contrast to his resigned expression.

Chirrut and Baze reappear a moment later, seemingly from nowhere. Bodhi has no idea how they hid against the white-on-white scenery, but he chalks it up to their usual mysterious pseudo-Jedi powers and lets it go.

Cassian sits up at their approach, shaking powder from his hair, and eyes Baze. “You enjoyed that.”

For a moment, the Guardian doesn’t react. Then his face splits into the broadest, most gleeful grin Bodhi has ever seen on his normally dour face. “Your faces when that first snowball hit,” he says. He laughs, the sound deep and genuine. “You would have enjoyed it, too.”

Chirrut smiles, handing his staff to Baze, and bends down to gather another snowball.

“It’s not over yet,” Bodhi points out. Sure, most of the team has given up, but Luke is a Jedi. He might still be able to turn things around.

“True,” Chirrut acknowledges as he straightens up. He tilts his head, cocks his arm back, waits a moment, and flings the snowball in a long, high arc over the boulder. Bodhi, Baze, and Cassian watch as it soars up, crests, and comes back down—

right on Luke Skywalker’s head. The Jedi skids to a startled stop.

Bodhi turns back to see Chirrut grinning. “Now it’s over.”

\--

Jyn rejoins them as they tromp back to the base, her face flush with the cold and victory. “Looks like the caf’s on you tonight, boys.”

Bodhi blinks. “The free caf from the replicators?”

“Details,” she says dismissively, and bumps Cassian’s arm with her shoulder. “No hard feelings, right?”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. His mouth quirks in a smile. “Of course not,” he says, with absolute sincerity. “It was just a game, right?”

Jyn’s not buying it. “Right…”

He nods. “It wasn’t personal.”

“Sure,” she says. Up ahead, Han and Leia’s voices suddenly grow loud and agitated, and Jyn glances up their way. Cassian casually pulls his hand out of his pocket and dumps a handful of snow over Jyn’s head. She jumps and swears, batting at her hair.

“No hard feelings,” Cassian says. Bodhi chokes on a laugh.

Jyn eyes him, then shakes her head. “That’s your one freebie, Andor. Don’t forget, I know where you sleep.”

“True,” he says, “But snow in the bed hurts you as much as it does me.”

“It’s cute that you think that would stop me,” she says.

Bodhi tunes out the rest of their banter, lifting his eyes towards the base ahead. Behind it, the sun is slowly setting, casting orange-tinted light across the snow. For a while there, he realizes, he’d completely forgotten the cold, and the impending war with the Empire, and everything else. He’d had _fun_ , and from the tired grins and excited chatter of the pilots around him, he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one. Sure, he was terrible at it, but that’s not really the point.

Wedge clomps up beside him. “So,” he says without preamble, “Verlaine and I were talking and we’re gonna have a rematch next week. You in?”

“I am,” Cassian and Jyn say in unison, and shoot each other a look.

Bodhi grins. “Absolutely.”


End file.
